


Tell Me Something Good

by live_from_my_bedroom



Series: Tell Me [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Baking, Brakebills, Chinese Food, Cutesy, Eliot's there to comfort him, M/M, Oneshot, Quentin's brain breaks sometimes, Short & Sweet, chocolate chip cookies, i just really love queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/live_from_my_bedroom/pseuds/live_from_my_bedroom
Summary: “El,” Quentin whispered, “Tell me something good.”Eliot understood the soft request. He knew Quentin’s brain had cracks in it, and that any one of those cracks could be split wide open on any given day. He knew that from that crack came a waterfall of thoughts that told Q he wasn’t brave enough or strong enough or smart enough. And sometimes, that waterfall was strong enough to shatter Quentin’s brain entirely, and unless he had someone or something good to focus on, those pieces would remain lying there collecting dust.In which Eliot and chocolate chip cookies come to the rescue.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: Tell Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819651
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	Tell Me Something Good

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in about an hour, and it hasn't been proof read. If you spot any mistakes, let me know in the comments. Enjoy!

It was one of _those_ days, Eliot could tell. It was already a quarter till noon, and Quentin had yet to make his way downstairs. Even the smell of coffee (which Eliot had magicked to slowly waft up to his room) hadn’t convinced him to at least peek his head out.

“Guess what?” Josh singsang, doing a strange little jig across the room to preheat the oven. “I’m makin’ the homemade classic—chocolate chip cookies.” He grinned at Eliot. “I predict they’ll be done in _diez minutos_ , so if you wanna be the first to get one fresh outta the oven, I’d suggest you stick around.”

“Yeah… I’m gonna go check on Q.” Eliot said. He made it halfway up the spiral staircase when he paused and called down to Josh, “If we’re not down here by the time you’re done with the cookies, use Yang’s Air Manipulation to send the smell to Q’s room, ’kay?”

Josh gave him a thumbs-up, then asked, “Is he, y’know, okay?”

Eliot gave him a small smile that just _felt_ sad, and Josh nodded. Say what you will about Josh (talkative, bad jokes, and obsessed with Gordon Ramsey were just a few descriptions that came to Eliot’s mind), he now realized when it was time to back down. His Bambi truly had done wonders on the boy in just the brief moment in time when they had been a “thing”.

-

“Go away,” came the muffled voice, and Eliot wondered the likelihood of if Quentin was under the covers, rereading the _Fillory_ books for the billionth time.

“Q, it’s me, El,” Eliot said. When he didn’t get a response, he added, “And I’m coming in, so…” He slowly turned the knob and squinted as the darkness of the room enveloped him. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust.

“Well, at least close the door,” Quentin grumbled, and Eliot did. “And I smelled your coffee, by the way.”

“Good,” Eliot said, softly. He carefully made his way across the room and could just barely make out the top half of Q’s face.

“What time is it?”

“Noon.”

“Jesus Christ.” Quentin lowered the blanket to just under his chin and looked up at Eliot with dark eyes. “Sorry, I know I should be up and doing stuff and helping with whatever and—”

“Shh,” Eliot interrupted. He felt for Q’s legs and sat just beside them. The words _No one needs you_ almost slip out of his mouth, but he stopped them just in time. He imagined how Quentin would interpret the sentence in his current state of mind and cringed at how much further damage he could’ve just caused. “It’s just a random Tuesday.” He paused. “Scooch.”

“Huh?”

Eliot stood and gestured at Quentin impatiently. “Move over—I’m coming in.”

“Oh.” Quentin scooted so far over that he nearly fell off the bed. “Hang on, lemme just…” He dug under the blanket and pulled out _The World in the Walls_ —the first _Fillory_ book. He laid it lovingly on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Where’re you at in the book?” Eliot asked, mimicking the way Quentin still has the blanket tucked under his chin.

“Martin and Jane have just met the Watcherwoman,” he responded. He sighed. “It feels so fucked up that I can still enjoy these books after everything we went through.”

Eliot didn’t know what to say. Quentin’s depressive swings were the scariest things in the world for him, which was saying something, seeing as he grew up with a homophobic father and an absent mother on the endless cornfields of Whiteland, Indiana.

“El,” Quentin whispered, “Tell me something good.”

Eliot understood the soft request. He knew Quentin’s brain had cracks in it, and that any one of those cracks could be split wide open on any given day. He knew that from that crack came a waterfall of thoughts that told Q he wasn’t brave enough or strong enough or smart enough. And sometimes, that waterfall was strong enough to shatter Quentin’s brain entirely, and unless he had someone or something good to focus on, those pieces would remain lying there collecting dust.

Eliot paused, liking the thought that he could be that someone good Quentin focused on in times like these.

“Okay, something good—easy.” And it was easy because despite the shit the multiverse had thrown at them, they had escaped relatively unscathed. It was kind of unbelievable, actually. “Well, Julia’s off to her interview at Brakebills, which she’ll definitely nail.”

“Oh, that’s today?” Quentin was quiet. “I meant to wish her luck.”

“Hey, no.” Eliot was pleased at how calm and firm his voice sounded. “No bad thoughts. You know she’s gonna do great; everyone on the staff already loves her. When she gets the job, she’ll be the youngest instructor Brakebills has ever had.”

“Of course she will,” Quentin said, but Eliot could hear the slight amusement in her voice.

“Isn’t that just _such_ a Julia thing to do?” Eliot teased, and he could tell Quentin had at least smiled by the small puff of air that left his nose. “Uh, Alice and 23 went to go pick up some Chinese for lunch; I didn’t know if you’d be hungry or not, but I got you a bunch of dumplings anyway.”

“Yeah, that actually sounds nice,” Quentin admits. “I didn’t have dinner last night.”

“Oh.” Eliot feels his cheeks burn. How could he have let Quentin skip dinner unnoticed? Was he even at the penthouse last night? The fact that he was even asking the question made the answer glaringly obvious to him.

“Tell me some more,” Quentin insisted. “Please?”

As if Eliot would ever say no to that.

“Well, Margo definitely had a great time last night,” he continued. “From what I can remember, anyway, which isn’t much to be honest. But I do recall her receiving several free drinks at the bar. And I only remember that ’cause I got exactly no free drinks.”

“Wait, really?” Quentin props himself up on his elbow. “No one bought you anything?”

Eliot exaggerated his disappointment by pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “And Margo didn’t even share with me.”

“Well, then, the guys at the bars are complete idiots,” Quentin said decidedly.

“Oh, would you have bought me a drink?” Eliot asked, and suddenly, images of his, Margo’s, and Q’s threesome flashed back to him. He remembered how horrible the aftermath of that was. It had been one of the worst decisions of his life, which was also saying something. To his not-complete surprise, he didn’t find the idea of a one-night stand with Quentin arousing. Q deserved so much more than a quick fuck with some random guy at a bar.

“Well, I would’ve definitely thought about it,” Quentin said.

“Now, you tell me something good,” Eliot said, wondering if this was a good idea.

Quentin scoffed. “I literally cannot think of anything good right now,” he said.

“Try,” Eliot coaxed. “For me?” He tucked a lock of Q’s brown hair back behind his ear before he could stop himself. It was growing back out again, and while Eliot liked the haircut, he did miss the longer, shoulder-length style.

“Well…” Quentin paused for a long time, and Eliot let him. “You,” he finally finished.

“What about me?” Eliot asked, thinking he knows where this could be going but not wanting to get his hopes up.

“You’re my something good,” Quentin explained, and the sheer simplicity of it made Eliot feel like crying.

Quentin sniffed, then, and for a moment, Eliot wondered if he was crying. He realized the next moment, however, what Q was doing when the smell of Josh’s chocolate chip cookies made their way throughout the room, settling into every corner of the room. If Eliot squinted hard enough, he could just see the silvery shimmer of the air pushing the smell towards them.

“Oh, yeah, and Josh made cookies,” Eliot finished lamely. He sat up. “Have I managed to convince you to come down for some dumplings and cookies?”

Quentin opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, his stomach growls. He looks up at Eliot, and they both start giggling. “I think that’s your answer.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope no one finds the characters too OOC. For some reason, these characters can be hard for me to get my head into and make believable, but I thought I'd give it a shot.


End file.
